


So Your Coworker is a Vampire

by corvidae9, knitmeapony



Series: Cross-Country [6]
Category: Supernatural, The Office (US)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidae9/pseuds/corvidae9, https://archiveofourown.org/users/knitmeapony/pseuds/knitmeapony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwight is convinced that Jim's been Turned. Sam and Dean are on the case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Your Coworker is a Vampire

"...So your coworker is... a vampire." 

It wasn't really necessary to have this meeting in the alleyway behind the diner, but the guy had insisted. Dean scraped the bottom of his shoe against the concrete, trying to get something sticky off.

"Yes." Dwight's face was pinched and deadly serious. "I've done all the tests, and he has all of the symptoms. Allergy to garlic, or at least garlic product on bread. Pain in the presence of holy objects." He held up a finger for each 'test'. "Dislike of sunlight and rejection of decent food. Although to be fair, he has always turned down my snacks." Some people just don't have a healthy respect for beets.

Dean and Sam shared a look while Dwight went on, talking to some point in the middle distance. In his mind, this was a clandestine conversation between fellow occultists in a shadowy alley, where they would plan the demise of some great evil. Sam was starting to notice the sour milk smell wasn't coming from the alley. "He was bitten by a bat some days ago and experienced preternatural healing and the symptoms I described. I neutralized patient zero -- the head vampire -- but Jim's symptoms have gotten worse. And today...." he paused, dramatically "... he called in sick."

The dramatic pause wasn't lost on the Winchesters. It wasn't particularly appreciated, either, but at least they noticed. They let Dwight's assertion hang in the air for a minute.

"Oh, yeah. Right," Dean finally said, fighting to not roll his eyes. "We'll get riiight on that."

###

Dean sank heavily into the driver's seat of the Impala and waited for the door to slam behind Sam so that he could turn the full weight of his incredulity on his brother.

"Please tell me we did not come all the way to Scranton for that."

"Yeah...well..." Sam shrugged, rolling his eyes too though he sounded too thoughtful for his own good. "He might be on to something."

Dean stared at him for a long moment, but it did nothing to crack Sam's earnest expression.

"You think a vampire burned himself on some cold garlic bread at a paper company?" Dean snorted, unimpressed, and finally turned to start the car. "Dude, seriously."

Mouth pulled into a tight line, Sam shrugged again. "I don't know, man," he grumbled, clearly not convinced either, but unwilling to let it go. "We've seen weirder shit than this. And that guy is freaked out."

"I hate to say this, Sammy, but that guy probably spends a lot of time freaked out," Dean muttered darkly under his breath as he pulled the Impala away from the grimy curb. "Besides, vampires don't come from bats."

"I know!" said Sam, eyebrows crawling up. "But the guy had light sensitivity, there was the garlic thing, the cold... we should at least check it out."

His hand paused on the way toward the stereo, and Dean swore under his breath.

"Aw hell. What's this guy's address?"

Sam tugged the business card out of his pocket, turned it over and read the address, then added, "Fifteen miles out of our way at most."

Dean's eyes darted to Sam and back to the road ahead. "Ten bucks says it turns out to be nothing."

"Unbelievable," Sam muttered, then set his elbow against the base of the window and huffed a laugh. "Fine. We'll even do the beer thing."

"Fine," Dean muttergrumbled and swung a wide right across two lanes to get onto the right road and finally got around to adjusting the stereo.

Inured as he was to that sort of manuever, Sam only muttered again, "Fine," and slumped further into his seat. He didn't say anything for long stretch of road, but eventually he couldn't help himself. Dean didn't hear him at first over Metallica cranked to a proper volume, and had to ask him to repeat.

"I said, it might be something serious, man."

Apparently, it still wasn't much of interest.

"What about that guy said anything but 'I am a crazy beet man'?" said Dean, cocksure and annoyed.

Sam cracked an honest-to-God grin and acknowledged, "Not a damn thing." Of course, then he went on to add, "But even the crazies aren't always wrong. He found us, didn't he?"

Dean shot an eyebrow at Sam.

 

"Yeah, fine, whatever. FBI? Homeland Security? Wildlife Services?"

"Homeland Security," Sam said after a short pause. "No one ever questions the kind of crazy shit they'd be looking into."

Negotiating a left onto the highway, Dean nodded in agreement. "Got that right."

Sam reached out to pop the glove compartment and began the search for the correct ID. "See-- Fish and Game, Arkansas Highway Patrol... Bingo. Here you go, Agent McQueen."

\---+++---

 

[[CUT to DEAN leaning on his car, talking to the camera]]

DEAN: [[talking directly to camera]] Really, no one notices the names on the tags. We could go in as agents Buddha and Jesus, and people would just ask Sam if he was part hispanic or something. I mean, we've gone in as Agents Luke Skywalker and Han Solo. Not a blink. Who doesn't know Star Wars?

[[DEAN adjusts his jacket]]

DEAN: ...Obviously, I was Han Solo.

[[CUT back]]

\---+++---

Dean jammed the ID into the pocket of his well-worn leather jacket while Sam did the same with his, then locked up the glove and reached for the map of Jersey at his feet, then shot Dean another look.

"...What?" said Dean.

Sam snorted a laugh and repeated, "Agent McQueen."

"Watch it," said Dean, eyes narrow and jabbing a finger in Sam's direction. "Just navigate. Bitch."

"Four miles to the exit," growled Sam with a sidelong glare. "Jerk."

Dean pulled the car up in front of a nondescript duplex after a stop to change into the bad suits they'd need to get away with looking like Homeland Security. He stepped out of the Impala and shut the door hard, slid on his sunglasses and clapped his hands together with false cheer.

"Okay! Vampire time!"

Rolling his eyes, Sam straightened the collar of his shirt and cocked his head toward the door.

"Let's just do this. Please."

Dean was already heading for the door, knocking before he was even standing on the stoop.

\---+++---

[[CUT to SAM leaning on the opposite side of the Impala]]

SAM: [[talking directly to camera]] I know, alright? I probably just lost ten bucks, which is enough for a bag of cheetohs and a six-pack of something I'll drink, or like three six-packs of whatever the hell Dean'll put in his mouth. But it's cool. I'll get it back. What's important is that we check it out, you know? God forbid somebody get hurt because we blew off a tip.

[[CUT back]]

\---+++--- 

 

The guy who answered the door with a tired, "... Yeah?" in a pair of sweatpants and an undershirt looked to be about the furthest thing from vampiric as somebody could get, but Sam kept his game face on.

"Mr. Halpert?" Sam whipped out his badge. "Special Agent Bronson. This is my partner, Agent McQueen, Homeland Security. We're here to ask you a few questions about an incident that occurred in your office earlier this week."

"Yeah, that's me--" said the guy, looking between them, baffled, and then his eyes went wide for half a second. "Did Andy finally kill someone?"

"No." Sam exchanged an appropriately suspicious look with Dean, then consulted his pocket notebook, in which were scribbled the latest hack for WoW and the last couple of passwords for his various music-share accounts. "There was an incident with some wildlife of suspicious origin in your office building just a few days ago." That nearly broke him. Suspicious wildlife. "We have reason to believe that it may have been... altered."

The longer he stood there, the more Sam was sure it was a dead end. The evidence began with the wadded tissues in Halpert's hand -- Sam didn't recall anything about vampires being susceptible to head colds.

He looked through the doorway at them, puzzled at first, then a light dawned. "....you're kidding, right?" Halpert began to laugh until it dissolved into a coughing fit. Once he could breathe again, he stood back from the door and gestured them inside. "It's not what you think. I'll tell you what happened." 

\---+++---

[[CUT to JIM, sitting on a soda, with a half-finished cup of tea perched on the arm]]

JIM: I always knew that Federal authorities would show up at my door thanks to Dunder Mifflin. I just always thought I'd be bailing out Michael or testifying against Andy. I really should've known if anyone could get me arrested, it'd be Dwight.

[[CUT back]]

\---+++---

Halpert laughed, coughed again and led the way inside, walking right through the puddle of sunshine the open window shade threw into the living room and past an end table covered in cold cups of half-drunk tea and a pizza box.

Dean shot a look full of recrimination at Sam, but he didn't break character. "We take all reports of suspicious activity seriously, Mr Halpert."

As much as Sam could feel the weight of Dean's glare, his eyes remained on the subject, in full Fed mode. He conceded only a slight shrug while Halpert's back was turned. "So... what did happen, sir?"

Halpert gestured to the couch for them to sit and flopped gracelessly down in his recliner. "I play pranks on Dwight. Pretty much constantly. There's a list of them somewhere -- I think he files a complaint every time I do it." He reached for a handful of tissue, blew his nose loudly and then began rummaging in his pocket. "There was a bat in our office, and it was too perfect, so I staged the vampire thing. My girlfriend helped, she knows everything. I can give you her number if you want."

Dean nodded. "It'd be best if we could clear this up completely, yes."

"...You staged it?" So close to outright glaring at the smug evident on Dean's face, Sam raised an eyebrow at Halpert instead as he took a seat. "Mind telling us exactly how?"

"Just a bunch of loud conversations in front of Dwight. I told him the bat bit me but it'd already healed over, and that I felt great and strong and... tingly." He huffed a laugh that became a wheezing cough. "I pretended to burn my fingers on Karen's garlic bread. Hm. Got a headache from the glare on a crucifix..." 

While Halpert paused in thought, clearly taking a mental stock of the ways he'd tormented Dwight over the bat, Dean gave Sam another disgruntled sidelong glance.

"Said there was too much sun in there. Came up right behind him with the collar of my coat turned up... I think that was all of it." He paused and peered at Sam and Dean. "So Homeland Security is into vampires now? Or is there some secret terrorist vampire organization that's been trying to take over while I've been in front of the TV trying not to scoop my sinuses out with a blunt spoon?"

"Alright. You caught us," said Dean with a sudden, wide grin, giving Sam his final cue. "We're not actually from Homeland Security."

Sam ducked his head, sighed and stood. "I'll be right back."

Before Halpert could freak out, Dean held up his hands. "Relax. Your coworker contacted us. We're... specialists, and he offered to pay us to check out the 'vampire threat' around here."

He'd underestimated Halpert's threshold for the weird, however. All the guy did was blink, sneeze, then say slowly, thoughtfully, "...He paid you? Dwight paid you to check this out?"

Dean, scratched the side of his neck with a negligent shrug. "Well, not much, but yeah." The truth was, Dwight had picked up his and Sam's diner tab, but it sounded more professional and less creepy the other way.

Halpert continued to blink at Dean, the corners of his mouth pulling slowly upward. He turned head slightly to the side and let his head thump back against his chair before he finally spoke again. "...This may be the best thing that's happened in a long time."

"Jim? Can I call you Jim?" Dean said more than asked. "This Dwight guy--"

Just then, Sam re-entered the room with a six pack of beer in hand, tie loosened. He handed a bottle to Jim, took one for himself, set the rest next to Dean and finished the thought. "Don't like him much do you?"

"You met him, right?" Jim grinned and twisted open the beer. "Thanks. Yeah, there's more or less been no time when I haven't been ready to do something to Dwight. He just... talks. And I can't resist."

"Yeah, we met him," said Dean. "He, uh, seems to think he was recruited by the CIA once."

Sam, who had opened his own beer though he hadn't taken a drink, suddenly broke into a wide grin. "...Let me guess. That was you, too?"

Jim blew his nose one more time, then took a big drink of the beer. "Yeah. It was actually a Christmas present from a friend of mine. She sent him letters for weeks and then let me pick the mission we sent him on. We actually got him to destroy his cell phone when he was 'compromised'." He laughed and took another drink before examining the beer in his hand curiously. "Good stuff. Cleared me right up. Weird."

"Dude." Sam finally relaxed somewhat when Jim neither twitched nor began to smoke at the holy water-infused beer and shook his head, tongue in cheek. "That's fucked up." He took a drink and-- damn it. Last thing he wanted to see was Dean's smug-ass expression.

Dean snickered as he twisted the top off his own beer.

"That's nothing," said Jim. "I was faxing him messages from himself in the future for about two months, too. Credulous is an understatement for this guy, seriously."

With an outright guffaw for that one, Sam crossed a foot over his knee. "Wait-- from the future?"

Jim nodded sagely. "Absolutely. I stole a box of his stationery when I was at the other branch. That's all it took."

Dean was grinning widely. "Nothing more than Beet Man deserves."

"Wait'll you hear this one--" said Jim. Sam took another drink while he listened, letting Jim and Dean feed each other's cruel psychoses, snickering yet taking exhaustive mental notes for his own protection.

\---+++---

[[CUT to JIM, back on his sofa]]

JIM: I guess if you have to get investigated by some kind of weird ghostbusters, at least you can get the ones that offer you beer. [[smirks]] My only regret is not calling Pam while they were still there. She'll never believe me.

[[CUT back]]

\---+++---

"Alright man. Take it easy," Dean called back to Jim, as Jim offered up a wave from the door a little more than an hour later. "You call us if you ever see anything weirder than Schrute." He added under his breath in an overly pleased tone, "Ten bucks, Sammy."

Sam waved over his shoulder. "Yeah, later." He reached for his wallet once he heard the door shut, elbowing Dean in the process. "Shut up--"

"Pssst."

Sam's hand went to the small of his back instead, fingers wrapping around the handle of his gun, and wheeled to face the sound as Dean did the same. A figure came into view around the side of Jim's house, badly hidden against a between a freshly painted fence and a short shrub. 

Dwight stage whispered in all severity, "Have you neutralized the threat?"

"Jesus," Dean swore.

"Neutralized?" Sam grimaced. "Dwight, what the hell are you doing here?!"

"Backup." Dwight's eyebrows twitched as though the answer were obvious. "If the creature had taken you out, I would have gone in and destroyed you all with impunity."

"Oh for f--"

"Nah, Sammy," said Dean, patting Sam's chest. "It's ok. We can tell him. Yeah, he's, uh, neutralized."

"Excellent," said Dwight, deadly serious.

Sam groaned and scrubbed a hand down his face. "There's no threat. He's not a vampire. Go home."

"Dude," said Dean, suddenly earnest in a way that set Sam's teeth on edge. "Don't lie to him. He hadn't fully gone through the change. We were able to expel the demon trying to take over his body." And the bastard completely deadpanned it.

Dwight's eyes grew wider. "I knew it."

Sam looked away, muttering, "Dean, come on--"

"No, it's cool, Sam. He's in the know," said Dean, totally fucking with Dwight and totally loving it. "We, uh, did an exorcism ritual we learned from a native man in Canada, see. "

"...Yeah," said Sam, resignedly playing along, if you could call it that. Not that Dwight would notice if his tone dripped sarcasm or not. "The situation's been dealt with." He pulled one more bitchface for Dean, then forced a smile and reached out to shake Dwight's shoulder. "Err. Good looking out, there."

He turned and headed for the Impala -- do not pass go, do not collect 200.

"Yep. Good working with you," said Dean with a smirk, following. "You, uh, spot any other vampires, give us a ring."

"What the hell was that?" said Sam as Dean shut the car door.

"What? You heard Jim. Guy's a douche."

"That what Jim said?"

"Aww, come on, Sam. Lighten up. Let's get out of here."

Something in the rearview caught Sam's eye and he frowned. "He's still standing there."

Dean glanced over his shoulder and snorted a laugh. "Dude. He is deep in thought."

Sam's eyes went wide as he saw Dwight perk, reach down, grab a camping pack and run... err. Amble quickly over to the Impala. "What the hell--"

Dwight leaned in Dean's window and announced, "Gentlemen. I believe I've found my true calling. My success at spotting creatures of the night is the only thing that has ever overshadowed my outstanding sales record. With three types of creatures defeated, I can only assume that my destiny lies with my fellow Hunters."

"...Three?" Dean said, staring in disbelief.

"I once shot a werewolf," said Dwight, gravely. "And I expelled a ghost from the lunch room at work."

\---+++---

[[CUT to Dwight, backed by traffic]]

DWIGHT: [[smug]] It was a poultergeist, and it was very easy to expel. I just did a little research and came in over the weekend. Problem solved. 

[[CUT to Jim at home]]

JIM: The ghost? [[laughing]] Toby has this metal travel mug, and there were these magnet kits you could get from Lego... it's complicated. He actually brought a chicken in over the weekend and killed it.

[CUT BACK to the Impala]

\---+++---

Before either Sam or Dean could do anything to stop him, Dwight pulled open the rear driver-side door and tossed his pack in. Sam hissed through his teeth, "Happy now?"

"Hey!" Dean's eyes went wide, and he hissed, "Shit!" but there wasn't much he could do short of dragging him out. He tried one last time, "Hey! Dude, listen. This is a bad call. You, uh, don't want to be living, uh, this kind of life."

"It's hard," agreed Sam, still horrified as Dwight slid into the seat. "Harsh. Hard. Bad."

"Nonsense. I came over here with the understanding I might not make it out alive. A Schrute does not back down from his calling." Dwight pulled the door shut behind him.

For once, all Dean could do was stare, speechless.

Sam turned more full to address Dwight with finality. "You're not coming with us."

"You can't fight destiny." Dwight said firmly. "Are there safety restraints back here?"

That did it. Dean looked fit to kill, and sounded it, too.

"Get out. Of my car."

Dwight looked up from his quest for a seatbelt and paused in thought. 

"You're right," he pronounced. "I'll follow in my car. Much more secure."

"Get out," Dean repeated, reaching for the door handle. Sam worried briefly for his already tenuous mental health.

Already in the process of sliding out of the car, Dwight nodded shortly. "I understand. Time is of the essence."

Staring open-mouthed, Sam turned to watch as Dwight shut the door again and took his pack to a vehicle parked in the shade across the street.

"Go. Go go go," he said unnecessarily as Dean peeled away from the curb.

Dean ran his thumbs along the steering wheel as they arrived at the first odd intersection. With a cursory check for cops, traffic and Dwight just now pulling into the road-- BAM. He crossed two lanes of traffic, took a shortcut heading in the wrong way up a boulevard briefly, and then clipped onto the highway going in the opposite direction as Dwight was heading. His eyes darted to the rearview, absently stroking the wheel. "That's my girl. Can't believe he laid his... his beet hands on you."

Sam patted the car door in an uncharacteristic show of affection for Dean's Baby, before turning a scowl on Dean.

"You are such an ass."

\---+++---

[[CUT to Dwight in his car, parked by the road]]

DWIGHT: I understand. They probably got an emergency call, and had no choice but to break the law in pursuit of their noble cause. I will carry on in their absence. *hand to chest* Until we meet again, and fight side by side once more.

[[CUT to Dean, in a hotel somewhere, Sam rummaging in the minifridge behind him]]

DEAN: Hell no.  
SAM: *straightens, scowls, shoves a beer at Dean as walks past and off screen*


End file.
